


Impossibly High

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-04
Updated: 2012-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 02:52:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/351125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is almost no substitute for a good pair of shoes... Except maybe the thief wearing them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impossibly High

There was nothing quite like the feeling of a new pair of Louboutins on a good morning stroll through London. They way they were a bit too slick on the bottom from being straight out of the box, the way that the toes pinched in all of the right places because they hadn't stretched out yet… It was one of the best feelings in the world. Irene Adler loved the way the heels clicked on the floor of her house after coming home—It made her feel powerful and like she could take on anything, or anyone considering her line of work. However, this day, when she returned from her walk, she was surprised to find a disturbance in the dust on the windowsill in her bathroom. It wasn't that there were streaks, but that it was gone. Nothing.

Irene proceeded cautiously through the rest of the house, grabbing a riding crop from the umbrella holder by the door on her way through. She wasn't very worried, but if one of Moriarty's men got in, she could be in trouble. Instead, she was surprised to find a woman with golden brown hair sitting on her bed, rifling through a camera phone. She seemed to have noticed Irene's ingress by the smirk on her lips that grew when the other woman came in, but she didn't look up. "Scandalous pictures you have on here, Ms. Adler. Is that the Duchess of Cambridge there? Is William  _really_  that bad of a shag?" The woman on the bed asked, still leafing through pictures, her legs dangling off of the bed in a way that accentuated the shortness of her skirt.

"Now, now. Hand that over before you get ahead of yourself." Irene said as she walked closer to the woman, stroking her cheek lightly with the crop to turn her head. The woman on the bed looked familiar, but the last time Irene had run into her… There was a different set of circumstances, and they were both a lot younger. "Bela. So nice of you to show up. Now give me back the phone."

"It's good to know you still remember me, Irene. Means I made an impression all those years ago." Bela swung one long leg over her other and twirled her ankle in a circle, but the shoe stayed in place. The heels were impossibly high and looked relatively new, quite like her own, which made Irene smirk. Bela was clearly baiting her, but she was considering pulling on the line. No matter how much Bela had insisted that she was straight during their last meeting, Irene knew how to spot a girl's girl and Bela definitely fit the bill. She was even more convinced now that she was all wicked smiles and short skirts to show off her legs.

"I always keep tabs on petty little thieves, Miss Talbot."  _Petty, pretty little thieves._  It was clear that Bela was going to make her work for the phone, but it seemed like she had no intention of running off with it. After all, they both worked for the same branch of man, and she wouldn't need to start a scandal if Irene was more than capable of doing Moriarty's dirty work. "But it seems you're not here to steal from me, are you?" Irene came closer, her breath hot on Bela's neck, and ran her fingers lightly over the buttons of Bela's blouse whilst she was flustered. "You'll give me the phone back when I give you what you want, is that right? You're here to  _seduce_  me, Bela?"

Now she was practically on Bela's lap, her lips hovering tantalizingly close to the thief's, teasing as always. Bela moved forward to catch Irene's mouth, but the Woman backed up and quickly shoved Bela backwards onto the bed, straddled on top of her. Her movements were quick, precise, but not particularly gently as her red nails scraped against Bela's breasts while unbuttoning her blouse and pushing it off. "Be glad I'm feeling particularly cooperative today."

Bela gasped, closing her eyes to let herself fully enjoy Irene's touch, even the pinpricks from her nails. She was able to move up enough to pull Irene into a kiss, darting her tongue across the dominatrix's teeth to gain entrance into her mouth. When Bela broke the kiss, she was nearly out of breath, and Irene was already working her skirt and stockings off, barking orders every so often just because she couldn't help it.

Irene's lips were curled into a smile the entire time, even as her hair came down and the shoes came off. It was enough to know that she was right. Maybe, just maybe, she could use having another one of Moriarty's pets around. She could get used to this.

They didn't bother with blankets after, Bela lying on her stomach on top of the bedspread with her legs curled upward like a child watching the clouds. Irene had pulled a silk robe on, but neither was talking, just enjoying the bliss that followed their sexual encounter. Bela traced her fingers over the swirls on the duvet cover until her thoughts were interrupted by a phone ringing. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore it, but Irene answered and it became real. The Woman muttered a few words before hanging up, her face incredibly pallid. "Moriarty is dead." She said flatly. "And so is Sherlock Holmes."

"Ten years goes by so quickly." Bela responded, turning her head towards Irene. "I should know. But Sherlock… Sherlock was real." Irene didn't reply to Bela, nor did she call Moran back for more information. Instead, she got up and walked outside, clutching a marker from her desk in her hand. Before Bela could stop her, she was inking "I BELIEVE IN SHERLOCK HOLMES" on the lamppost outside of her house.  _There._

Bela took one look at it and nodded. "I do too. Now, let's go inside." Irene nodded and followed Bela back in, neither saying anything for the rest of the evening. When Bela left the next morning, she carried her shoes in one hand, not putting them on until she was safely out of the house to avoid waking Irene, even though Bela was almost certain that the Woman knew she was leaving. Then, when she was finally outside, she slipped them on and carried on down the sidewalk, determined to find the truth about Sherlock, even if it got herself killed.

 


End file.
